


Cede

by ArchitectofSorrow



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Episode: s0307 The Day of the Dove, Episode: s03e09 The Tholian Web, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Mind Meld, Minor Pavel Chekov/Hikaru Sulu, POV Second Person, PTSD, Pavel Chekov's POV, Spock is a sweetheart, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchitectofSorrow/pseuds/ArchitectofSorrow
Summary: //For a moment, you feel dread, shame, and then you are in his head, and he is in yours. It is not like the other times though, when the creatures invaded, controlled, eclipsed you. You know you can get away if you want. His thoughts are soft in your mind, gentle like a mist floating through you, and he finds them: the murders, the mutilations, worlds crusted in blood and chaos, and one by one he takes them unto himself.//Desperate to rid himself of guilt, and the horrible images put into his head by aliens who took over and controlled him, Chekov turns to the enigmatic and telepathic Mr. Spock.





	

You fall. You fail. You are never given a reason why. Every barrier, every wall stripped away, and you are naked, helpless, dangerous, a tool, putty. You succumb, and a part of you blacks out, but a part of you is there, watching through another’s eyes, because they do not belong to you. This body was meant for another. Or maybe you are the other. Maybe you were always two minds. You want to kill, rip apart, ruin. You jump from heights you never dreamt of daring, and fight people you would cower from. You are everything it wants you to be, and in a way, it is euphoric to be able to please another so, to that capacity, choiceless obedience. 

It is the worse thing that has ever happened to you. You’ve been tortured and threatened and your life has almost ended a thousand times, but this, this is the worst, because you feel responsible. Should have fought harder. Should have been stronger. Deep down you wanted this. Subconsciously you were asking for it. It has left fingerprints in your mind, dark inky spots that you run into. Sometimes you do not know which thoughts are its or yours. 

You were terrified until it shut off the fear center of your brain or rather distorted it, pointing your fear and hatred toward everyone you loved, instead of the parasite. You feel polluted, intermingling with monsters, soul to soul, the most intimate connection you have ever known. And though it's gone, and you are free, you still hold its memories inside you. Hands on Sulu’s throat, phaser pointed at Mr. Spock and your captain, fingers locked around the hilt of a sword, tearing cloth, slicing skin. When you wake from it, for a moment your mind is blank, but bit-by-bit, you remember everything, or at least you hope that’s everything. 

The ‘why?’ finds you at night. It eats at you for sleepless hours. Why did it choose you as its vessel? Is there something wrong with you, something that draws evil? Time after time, you are selected. Is your mind so complacent, your will so weak that you are an obvious target? You think back on your origins. As a child, you were well-behaved. Your parents were devoted but strict. For years, you played teacher’s pet until you learned you could not please your peers that way. Even then you followed the rules. You joked, you flirted with being defiant, but at your heart, you wanted to be told what to do. Sometimes you open your mouth to ask the other victims, ‘did you ever enjoy it?’ But you do not, afraid of strange looks – you might be the only one. In any case, it seems selfish to bring it up, remind them.

‘Something wrong?’ Sulu asks. You have been quiet for the last hour, and it's not in your nature.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say, and then add, ‘I was just thinking.’ Because you're not sure how to apologize for things you had no control over. If you start considering yourself culpable for everything you have done, you would be forced to view yourself as a cold-blooded killer. 

He lets it go, but after you get off the bridge, he invites you to have dinner with him, and when you turn him down again, he looks puzzled and hurt. ‘What’s bothering you?’

You shrug your shoulders. ‘Just tired.’ You smile and say ‘I’m sorry’ again, hoping he will understand what you mean without having to talk about it.

He is beautifully oblivious. ‘Sure, no it’s fine. Sleep.’ He pats your arm, an infliction of friendliness. 

You isolate yourself, spend hours alone, let the guilt set in. It tastes thick like dust and mold, and it weighs you down, clouds your vision of a bright future. You ghost through work, efficient but not really there. You eat but do not savor. You shower but still feel soiled. 

Finally, you come to a point where you cannot just ignore everything. Memories play in a loop, during work, meals, and your rest period. Covering dark circles with foundation and drinking copious amounts of coffee only puts off dealing with the problem. You think of going to Dr. McCoy, but it is Mr. Spock’s quarters you end up standing in front of you. Maybe because you actually believe what Sulu says, how, ‘underneath that ice exterior, Spock’s one of the warmest guys I know,’ or maybe you’re just so desperate, and Mr. Spock seems to have so much control. In any case, he sees your face and lets you in without comment.

‘Sit down, Mr. Chekov,’ Spock says, pulling out his chair.

You sit down. He remains standing. For a moment, you are both silent, and then Spock clears his throat. ‘What can I do for you?’

You look at your hands folded on your lap. ‘I…I…’ You lick your lips and start over, ‘I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

Spock’s eyebrow lifts. ‘It?’

You keep your eyes averted. ‘I’m sorry. Just, I don’t know how to make it stop. I can’t make them go away.’

Spock touches your arm. ‘Are you all right?’

You shake your head. ‘No, I’m not. There’s so many images, ugly images in my mind, and trying not to think about them just makes them come more.’

Concern warms Spock’s brown eyes. He runs his fingers up to your cheek. ‘May I?’

You hesitate but nod. 

He grips your face. ‘My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…’

For a moment, you feel dread, shame, and then you are in his head, and he is in yours. It is not like the other times though, when the creatures invaded, controlled, eclipsed you. You know you can get away if you want. His thoughts are soft in your mind, gentle like a mist floating through you, and he finds them: the murders, the mutilations, worlds crusted in blood and chaos, and one-by-one, he takes them unto himself. Groaning, crying, almost silently but you can sense it. His eyes scream, but he holds himself steady, and he lets himself feel your pain and the pain of your victims. Cruel thoughts and memories evaporate, leaving your mind clean and clear. He holds you and slowly everything seems normal. No one but him was ever in your mind. You have done no wrong. You are safe. You are good. He is letting go, telling you to forget one last thing.

You are sitting in Spock’s quarters. You don’t remember coming here, or maybe you do? 

Spock is signing a report. He hands it back with half a smile, but there is something like sorrow in his eyes. ‘That will be all, Mr. Chekov.’

You take the PADD. ‘Thank you, sir.’

He nods. ‘Not at all.’


End file.
